No Other Way
by RayneSummer
Summary: Just a nice, simple, story about Sam getting sick on a case and Dean aborting it to care for him. One-shot. Don't own the boys. Sick!Sam and Caring!Dean, with some Bobby on the phone. Enjoy, please review!


Sam groaned and then coughed as he rolled over in the motel bed, effectively waking himself up fully. He felt like crap. His throat was sore and his head ached. And, despite having not even moved yet, he felt lightheaded and nauseous.

Great. They were in the middle of a hunt and now he was sick. Once Dean had gotten past worrying about him, his brother was going to bitch.

Pushing himself up, he tried to clear his throat quietly, but the movement was enough to put his dizziness into action and a second later he was slumped in the bathroom, dragging the door shut.

Yeah. Great move to not wake Dean.

Sure enough, not a minute later, there was a knock on the door, and his brother's concerned voice asking, "Sam? What's wrong?"

Sam muttered something inaudible as he raised his head wearily. Dean hadn't even seen him this morning and yet still knew there was something wrong.

The knocking became insistent as Dean warned, "You don't answer me, I'm coming in, man."

Sam cleared his throat to answer, but that made him go into a coughing fit instead, by which time his brother ran out of patience and simply unlocked the door in two seconds.

Then there was a hand on Sam's back, rubbing soothing circles, as he tried to breathe through his aching throat and wet coughs.

"Why didn't you just say you were sick, hm?" Dean mused from beside him when Sam was quiet again. The younger Winchester gave him a bitchface, rather ineffective because of the flushed face and fever-bright eyes.

Dean was quite surprised. He definitely hadn't noticed Sam was sick before, but evidently the kid was now, whether or not he had been before. He scanned his little brother with a concerned gaze, checking over for a wound or something that may have got infected.

Sam sighed as Dean did his mental examination, but stayed still, just sniffing, as he waited for his older brother's verdict.

Deeming it just a cold and fever, the older hunter took Sam's arm as he tried to get up, supporting him. "You wanna get back to bed? And stay there?" It wasn't really a question, but Sam nodded.

Once the youngest Winchester was settled back in his warm bed, Dean thought about what to do. Obviously they weren't going to hunt now; the werewolf they were tracking in this town could be taken on by someone else.

He glanced at Sam, and was pleased to see the kid was already asleep again; it was still early and Dean had only woken because his little brother had.

Smiling to himself, the hunter went and got a fresh glass of water, placing it at his brother's bedside. He also added two pills next to it for Sam when he woke, to keep the pain at bay.

Scribbling a note quickly explaining that he had gone to the store for supplies, Dean propped that up against the water, so Sam would see it if he woke before Dean got back. Stepping back, he nodded at the set out and then headed out.

As he walked to the store, he pulled out his phone and dialled his surrogate father's number.

Then Dean realised he hadn't checked the time yet; a glance at his watch told his that is was actually only 6am.

"Oops," he muttered under his breath as the ringing phone at the other end was finally picked up and a gruff voice answered, "What?"

Rolling his eyes at Bobby's usual unceremonious greeting, Dean replied, "Hey, it's Dean."

There was a slight pause as the elder hunter processed this information through his tired mind.

"What's up, boy?" he eventually answered in suspicion. There was probably something wrong if Dean Winchester was ringing this early.

"We're on the hunt you gave us."

"I figured." Another pause, then, in concern, "You two okay?"

Dean nodded, remembered that Bobby couldn't see his through the phone, and answered, "Well, yeah-"

"But?" The other hunter interrupted before he could say anything else.

"Well we've tracked down the werewolf, but we can't finish the hunt cause we're taking a few days off. Sam's sick," he offered in explanation. And, of course, it did explain everything.

Bobby was silent for a minute, already flicking through his journal for other hunters who could take on the case. "That's fine, Dean, why didn't you say that immediately," he grumbled as he worked.

Dean rolled his eyes, not that Bobby could see.

"What's up with Sam?" the elder hunter asked once he finished looking.

"I don't really know. He woke me up this morning almost falling over on his way to the bathroom. Then he wouldn't talk to me, so I unlocked the door and talked to him instead." Dean shrugged.

Bobby sighed. "Not anything bad, or to with the case?" he asked, just to check.

"No. I checked, no infected injuries or anything, and illness has nothing to do with this case."

"Good." The old hunter nodded to himself. Damn, he worried too much about those boys.

Dean smiled to himself as he stopped walking, already outside the door. "Okay, Bobby, thanks. I'll call you later."

"Right. Take care of your brother, ya idjit."

Dean clicked off the phone, shaking his head at how much he loved his surrogate father, and headed into the store.

* * *

Half an hour later, he walked back into their motel room, equipped with what he needed for a sick little brother.

Who was, it seemed, not in bed any more. Great.

"Sammy?" Dean called, putting the bag down on the table.

He wasn't answered, leaving him to glance around for his brother, noticing the pills were gone from the table and the note dislodged, meaning Sam had both realised where Dean had gone and taken the painkillers.

Which... evidently didn't have any effect whatsoever, Dean though as he walked over to the once again closed bathroom door.

"Sam," he called softly, knocking. He counted to five and then, answerless, pushed on the door, realising it wasn't locked, and entering.

Sam was slumped, eyes closed, beside the sink, resting his forehead on the cold metal. If it wasn't for his sweaty face and congested breaths, he would have looked peaceful.

Dean sighed, looking at his brother. "Alright, sasquatch, come on," he muttered, more to himself, as he reached down to pull Sam up. "Let's get you to bed, huh? Be more comfortable."

Sam murmured in his sleep, turning his head towards the sound of Dean's voice as the older brother took hold of his arms and pulled him up, supporting him from the waist with an arm around his shoulders.

Dean dragged his drugged and sick little brother back to his bed for the second time that morning, dumping on the soft surface and putting the duvet over him, before stepping back and watching Sam sleep for a moment.

He sighed. "Honestly. Leave you alone for ten minutes and you get out of bed and pass out on me." He shook his head. "What am I going to do with you," he muttered, but fondly.

He went over to his shopping and started to empty the things out, putting some away and leaving some out for Sam when he woke up again.

He cooked the soup so it would be ready to simply be warmed up when his little brother wanted it, eating a doughnut he had got for himself as he worked, and frequently glancing over at Sam, who was still aside from shifting in his sleep every once in a while.

With a sigh, Dean sat on his own bed and switched on the TV, preparing himself for a few days of taking care of his little brother.

* * *

Sam woke slowly. He wrinkled his nose and sniffed. He wasn't as blocked up as before. He yawned and rolled over from being on his stomach, lying on his side instead and searching for his brother.

"Hey, Sam. Feel better?" That was his brother's voice, concern still laced in with the relief at Sam finally being conscious again.

Sam sighed and closed his eyes again. He couldn't find his brother but he could hear him, and that was good enough for the minute. "Still feel crappy," he murmured into the bedcovers.

Dean chuckled. "Bet you do," he muttered, and Sam felt a cool hand on his forehead briefly. When it was taken away, he slitted open his eyes, finally seeing his brother, who was crouched down next to his bed and looking a cross between amused and worried.

"How long have we been there?" Sam asked, and coughed. But it didn't hurt as much as before, to his relief.

Dean waited until his brother could breathe again, watching him with a concerned eye, before answering, "A couple of days," matter-of-factly.

Sam squinted up at him. "We gonna go today?" He knew how much his brother hated being cooped up.

Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam, and almost smiled. "Dude, you've been out for two days, barely waking up to drink, and you wanna go already, the second you wake up?"

This sentence revealed more concern than the older hunter was showing, and Sam felt sorry for him. "Yeah, well. I'm better. And you hate staying in a room for long."

The older Winchester stared incredously at his brother for a moment before smirking. "Okay. If you can walk to the bathroom by yourself and take a shower, we can go."

Sam's eyes travelled from the bathroom, not more than ten steps away, back to Dean, who was grinning, knowing he had won. Sam groaned and put his bedcover over his head.

"I hate you," he murmured, but Dean still heard.

"I know you do." He chuckled again and stood up, patting his brother on the shoulder before leaving him. "Get some more sleep, Sammy."

Grudgingly, Sam couldn't help it, and within a minute he was resting again.

* * *

The third time he woke properly, he could hear Dean talking, evidently on the phone.

"...Yeah, Bobby, thanks. Okay. Tell him thanks too. Yeah. Sam's fine. He woke up yesterday and wanted to leave. Don't worry, I soon got that idea out of his head." A sigh. "Yeah, okay, I know. Talk later. Bye."

Sam heard the phone being flipped shut and Dean walking over to him, probably knowing he was awake.

"You wanna go against me today, kiddo?"

Sam opened his eyes to find Dean standing over his bed with a grin on his face. But his eyes were concerned.

The younger Winchester muttered something about how Dean could go against himself and yawned as he pushed himself up under the watchful eye of his brother.

The bathroom didn't seem so far away this time, and Sam didn't feel dizzy sitting up, so he counted that as a win.

He blinked up at Dean, who raised an eyebrow at him. "Better?"

Sam nodded. "Much," he replied. His voice was a little croaky, but compared to how he was a few days ago, he was ready to go now.

Dean nodded slowly, scanning him. Sam waited patiently to see if he passed his big brother's test for being allowed up.

Eventually, Dean sighed and nodded once. "Okay. Go take a shower and then we'll head out. But you're eating something first and sleeping in the car," he ordered.

Sam nodded meekly. He had only just passed, meaning he was still under sickness watch.

Dean shook his head to himself and wondered away towards the kitchenette, getting busy with making Sam some food, but also keeping a watchful eye on his brother as he got up.

Sam carefully stood up, thought about how he felt for a moment, and decided he was okay to have a shower and maybe eat.

He stumbled to the bathroom and closed the door, just hearing Dean call after him, "Don't fall, or I'm coming in, bitch!"

Sam rolled his eyes and muttered, "Jerk," before heading to the shower.

Dean listened intently to the sound of the shower, just in case his brother did fall. He was still worried about the kid, but almost three days of rest had been good for him and besides, they really should get out of town.

He had already told Bobby they would go to his for a bit until Sam was up to hunting again. Not that he was going to tell his brother. Yet.

Eventually, Sam stumbled out of the bathroom, dressed in fresh clothes and feeling much better. Dean beckoned him over to the table.

Reluctantly, Sam sat down at the table and Dean put a bowl of soup in front of him. "Eat at least half of that," he said pleasantly, and wondered off to pack, smirking at Sam's muttered remarks about mother-hen brothers who don't know when to quit.

Slowly, Sam tasted the soup. It wasn't bad; chicken had always been his favourite. He wasn't exactly hungry, but he could fell his big brother's gaze burning into his back, so he made an effort to start eating, knowing unless he did he wouldn't be allowed to go anywhere.

Dean packed both their bags, switching between doing that and giving Sam calculating looks. He'd be damned if he was letting the kid out when he was still sick.

But, in the end, Sam managed to finish most of the bowl and not feel too nauseous about it, effectively passing his big brother's test.

Dean gave him one last subtle look over with a concerned eye before allowing him to take his bag out to the car.

The older Winchester soon followed him, locking the door behind them and dropping the key off at reception before going back to the car, where his brother was already in the passenger seat, obediently waiting.

Dean sat next to him and started the car with a smile at Sam, when he gave him a bitchface.

Confident his brother was okay now; Dean pulled out the parking lot and went on the road to Bobby's. He glanced over at Sam after a little while, who was comfortably dozing already.

The big brother smiled. For now his job was complete. Once again he had one healthy, bitchy, little brother. And he wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
